


Storm And Anchor

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode: s03e10 The Return Part 1, F/M, Missing Scene, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-10
Updated: 2011-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time is no longer on their side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm And Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> To the prompt: Sheppard/Teyla, popcorn

As she sucks John’s finger into her mouth, Teyla tastes the buttery saltiness of popcorn on his fingertips. His hoarse inhalation is all the answer she requires as she slides her tongue along the tip of his finger and lets him imagine her tongue elsewhere on his body.

Teyla will not dance around this any longer. They no longer have time in abundance.

Seduction was not among her thoughts when she demanded popcorn in exchange for helping him move his boxes. It was not something she considered when she made the trip back to his room for the last boxes and discovered Ronon had taken them already, leaving her with John and the bag of hot, buttery popcorn.

She did not think of desire then, only her desire to savour this last taste of Earth. Even when he scooped out a handful of popcorn - _her_ popcorn! - from the bag, when she swiped at him, mock-angry at his temerity, when he slid an arm around her back and tussled her down to the mattress, Teyla did not think of sex.

Not until John paused and began feeding her popcorn, intimate in a way she did not expect from him - with an edge of need in his touch and his teasing - did Teyla realise what he desired.

And so, when the last kernel was fed to her, she licked the pad of his index finger once, then sucked it into her mouth in sensual invitation.

Breath catches in his throat, as though he made an offer he did not expect her to accept. Then he pulls his finger from her mouth and bends down with a slowness that does not conceal his hunger - only his uncertainty.

The mattress sags a little where his hand presses into it to keep himself from falling on her as his mouth covers hers. Teyla closes her eyes as his lips brush across hers, slow and soft and infinitely gentle. Unlike the last time mouth met mouth, this is not a possession, not a demand. Her hand slips up his shoulder, and slides into the thick hair at the nape of his neck, encouraging him deeper, and she arches up against him, inviting the heat of his body.

Fire begins to burn in her belly, a simmering heat, bubbling desire. His weight presses her into the bed, slowly pushing her into the mattress as kiss follows kiss, and hands press against skin, setting the tinder of her senses into full flame.

“Shoulda done this a year ago,” he mumbles against her throat as his fingers tug at the fastenings of her top, teasing her breasts with the warmth of his touch. “I didn’t think you’d-- Well, you kick my ass enough as it is. Didn’t need my ego on top of it.”

In spite of the dizzying whirl of desire, Teyla finds herself smiling as she tugs his shirt up his body, her fingers skimming across the hot skin, brushing scars whose stories she will never know. “Is your ego that fragile, John?”

“Sometimes,” comes the reply as he yanks her top open. “Most of the time. Specifically, anytime I thought about turning up at your room...” His fingers cup her bare breast, brushing across her nipple with reverent delicacy, and Teyla arches into his touch.

“I am not refusing you now,” she tells him, striving to keep her voice even and unwavering.

John’s eyes are shadowy green, like the colour of a woodland canopy from beneath, but the heat the burns in them would set a forest ablaze. “No.” His grin is tight and triumphant - and utterly male in its satisfaction. “You’re not.”

Then his mouth follows where his fingers so recently traced. Teyla cries out as desire thrusts deep between her thighs, a craving that digs her fingers into his back and leaves the world pale behind a hazy curtain of longing. His tongue laves her nipples, tenderising her flesh with sure strokes, every sweep of his mouth promising her another rhythm if she will only wait a little longer...

Her fist in his hair tugs back his head, and her body protests the loss of stimulation, but Teyla is done with waiting.

Time does not run in their favour.

Carefully, mindful of the narrowness of the bed, she shuffles over, rolling them so John lies beneath her, and her hips cover his loins. He grins up at her - the boyish smile she so rarely sees anymore, taken up as he is by the seriousness of life in the city. “I figured you’d like it on top.”

Teyla smiles, and rocks lightly on him in teasing revenge. “There are...advantages to this position.”

“Oh, God,” John groans as he thrusts up against her. “No argument here.”

He does not protest when she tugs his shirt over his head, nor when she eases back from his hips and swiftly undoes his belt and trouser fastenings, easing him out from beneath the silky material of his boxer shorts. In her hand, his flesh his hot and damp, and he moans as she slides her fingers along him.

Exultation is as smooth as the butter she can still taste in her mouth. “Do you like that?”

“Not fair,” he says, catching her hands and pushing her away. Teyla laughs and pulls him upright, using her weight as ballast. She laughs even more when he winces a little as his erection rubs on the cloth of his trousers. But when he hauls her mouth to his, amusement translates swiftly into arousal.

Teyla pulls away, smiling at the noise of protest John makes as she climbs from the bed. That protest eases as she reaches for the waistband her trousers, and his hands are suddenly on hers. “Let me.”

He should look ridiculous with his trousers falling down around his booted ankles, his penis standing erect between them as his fingers work her trouser fastenings open. Instead, Teyla finds their state unbearably sweet. His face is so close to hers, so intent on his task, and Teyla slides her fingers along his jaw and down his throat on a wave of tenderness, desire surging within her.

She wants to take him, to possess and be possessed. She wants to touch him, to bring him pleasure in her body, to gain release from his. She wants to feel him shiver and writhe in her arms, to know that she has run him to ecstacy’s brink and taken him over the edge.

Even now, as her fingers trace his face, and his fingers probe between her thighs, he looks up at her, uncertainty on his features. _You hide so much of who you are, John._ So casual and open, yet so carefully self-contained.

There are no words for this moment. Tomorrow, he will leave for Earth; tomorrow, she will follow her people to New Athos.

Today, they are in Atlantis and together.

Teyla draws him down to her mouth with nothing more than the slightest pressure of her fingertips.

He comes willingly, lips opening to smooth across hers as he continue to stroke her with more delicacy than she would expect from him. His kisses drown her senses, and the current of ecstacy threatens to drag her below.

“You like that?” John murmurs as she grips his arms. She can taste his laughter, the unalloyed sweetness of his pleasure in her response. “Let go for me, Teyla,” he shapes the words against her lips. “Come for me.”

He thrusts his finger past her clit and a knot inside Teyla loosens, unties, releases.

Her cry of rapture is lost beneath his mouth.

Everything comes undone in a blaze of heat like the summer sun, in a rush of cold like the dark ocean. She is boneless with throbbing pleasure, riding the dizzying heights of the tide - and John is both storm and the anchor holding her fast.

In the silence of his room, her hoarse panting is the only noise to be heard.

Teyla begins to move, preparing to shift them both to the bed where further pleasure may take its course - and realises her feet are still in their boots, caught up in the legs of her trousers.

John follows her gaze and matches her helpless smile. “I got distracted.”

She kisses him, light and tender. “It was an...enjoyable distraction.”

His mouth seeks hers, harder and more determined. “Good.” Then his head jerks up and back as her fingers close around him. His chest heaves a little as she traces his fingers along the hot column of his erection, and his hand clamps down on her neck urging her mouth to his again and again, until he drags himself away.

“We should get properly naked.”

“We are improperly naked now?” His kisses travel to her neck, and he eases her fingers from his erection so he can make his way slowly down her body.

“Nope.” John says as his mouth slides down her body. “Just that we can continue this...conversation...at our leisure on the bed.”

“I...ah!” Not content with what he has already wrought in her, he is tasting her skin in descending licks down her body. “You... You are good at this, John.”

He glances up, and his eyes glow with a satisfaction that heats her. “I know.”

Then his mouth presses between her thighs and Teyla lets loose a groan as her body, still sensitive with the last surge, reminds her that pleasure need not be only once in a joining.

After this climax, her senses feel smeared, the world pleasantly blurry as John crouches down before her, and she feels the tug of laces coming undone before he draws her back to the bed, kicking off his boots. She follows suit, discarding her footwear, and pushes him back to the mattress before she straddles his thighs and takes him in her hand again.

John’s jaw clenches. “Taking control of the situation?”

She trails her fingers along him, feeling the length and weight of him as he shifts. “Do you have objections, John?”

Amusement deepens the lines around his mouth, the tiny lines around his eyes, even as his breath hisses through his teeth. Light touches circle the tip of his erection, trailing down his shaft to the base. “I... No. Actually, I don’t.” His hands slide around her sides, and clench on her back as her caresses intensify. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

Teyla smiles, to herself more than anything else. “Then you will not object to my wanting this?” She eases herself backwards, tracing her mouth down his body as his chest heaves...

“No objections,” John manages, almost gasping for air. Then her lips are on him, tasting the hot salt of his flesh, letting her breasts trace his thighs, sliding her mouth down the length of him, then up again, then down, then up, and listening to him catch his breath as she sucks him whole into her mouth.

“Teyla...ah!” Her name ends on a cry, and one hand grabs her shoulder, squeezes. “Okay, I think...” His voice goes hoarse as she draws up off him.

“If you are thinking, then I must not be doing this right,” Teyla says, wiping her mouth delicately. “Should I practise?”

“Oh, God.” John’s eyes are afire as he grabs her, desire and need in his expression, yes, but also tenderness and wonder. “We’ll practise later,” he tells her as he pulls her in, his mouth seeking hers, his hand coaxing her towards him, fingers slick between her thighs. “It’s showtime.”

If she doesn’t understand the reference, his meaning is perfectly clear. His body presses hot and thick into hers as Teyla slides onto him. His lips tease her with kisses. His hands slide down to her hips as she settles her thighs either side of him.

Then he flexes his hips and Teyla’s fingers tighten in his hair as exhilaration courses through her, fresh and sweet, like a bubbling spring of water. She rocks on him, squeezing him with her body and he thrusts again with a soft grunt. It becomes a rhythm, swirling through their blood like the beat of drums, surging where skin touches skin like the tug of the tides.

Teyla is flying, her body free and yet fettered, connected to this man so intimately, so sweetly.

She is soaring, his mouth forming syllables against her cheek, words she can no longer hear through the pulse in her temples.

She is falling, heading for the edge of the precipice, knowing the end is coming, welcoming it with her body and spirit.

She is crashing, her body beyond control, in a place where the man thrusting up into her is all that exists, all that she wants or needs. His voice against her throat, his skin against her lips, his hair fisted in her hand, his body sinking into hers... Teyla wants all of it, and she never wants it to end, this pleasure that John brings her - this pleasure she brings him.

Her body arches, ignites, blazes, and John is there with her in the searing conflagration of this union, his teeth pressing against her throat as he thrusts, again, again - and cries out, too.

Storm and anchor collide, and there is only rapture.

The storm abates.

Lying in his arms on the bed, utterly naked, utterly spent, Teyla thinks it strange that nobody has come looking for him, for her.

Teyla can’t deny that it feels good to lie here, so quiet, so intimate, with the sheet flung over their hips. The first and possibly the last time they will lie like this: lovers in Atlantis.

“John?”

“Teyla?”

“Why did we not do this when we first met?”

His hand traces up her spine. “Because you’d have kicked my ass back to Earth?”

“I might not have.”

“See, if I’d known that, I might have done something.”

She props herself up so she can look him in the eye. “And now it is too late.”

John meets her gaze for a moment, before his gaze flicks back up to the ceiling. Teyla resettles her head on his shoulder as he speaks. “I didn’t intend this to be a goodbye screw, you know.”

“I know.” Teyla brushes her lips against his collarbone. “It does not matter.”

He tenses in her arms. “It matters to me.”

Sometimes she knows this man, and sometimes she does not. Teyla rubs her cheek against his shoulder. “I mean, I do not think of this as ‘a goodbye screw’.”

“Just sex?” Again, she has offended him with her words - or what she implied with them.

If their alliance is certain, and their teamwork assured, this is new ground. “John...”

“Forget I asked.” He cuts her off.

“John. If trails in the forest diverge, many of them run together again.”

Beneath her hand, John’s chest deflates. “I’d just like to _know_ our trails will run together again.”

“Did I not say?”

“Yeah. But that’s not the same as really knowing.” He shuffles over in the bed so she slides off him and he can see her face. “You know, there’s a lot of really clichéd lines I could say right now.”

Teyla smiles and draws him down to her lips. “Then do not say anything at all.”

John’s mouth quirks. “That’s a cliché, too.” But he kisses her all the same, and his mouth is warm and tender on hers, and his hands coax her up against him...

“Sheppard?”

He breaks off the kiss, mutters something uncomplimentary, and reaches for the earpiece he discarded on the bedside table, sneaking in one more quick kiss before he sits on the edge of the bed. “Ronon?”

“You’re needed down at the _Daedelus._ Know where Teyla is?”

John turns to look at her. Teyla shrugs then watches his eyes drift down to her chest. “I got a few ideas. She’s needed down there, too?”

There’s some noise in the background. “Seems so. Stuff for the Athosians.”

“I’ll let her know.” One hand reaches out to cup her bare breast as the other tosses the earpiece back to the table. John leans in towards her, casually possessive, “I think we’re needed elsewhere.” His fingers trace the underside of her breast, and Teyla takes his head in her hands and kisses him gently. “Tonight.”

“Do you not have things to do?”

“Yeah. Perhaps. I can put them off.” One corner of his mouth tilts, “You can help me do them.”

She laughs then. “So I am manual labour?”

“You offered to help.”

“That was before. And you bribed me with popcorn.”

One hand fondles her breast, casually teasing, as the other slides the length of her thigh. “Can I bribe you with anything else tonight?”

Wickedly, Teyla slides her hand between his thighs and watches his eyes glaze over. She leans in so their mouths are a scant inch from each other, and looks into eyes that glow green with desire, before she tells him in utterly serious tones, “More popcorn.”

It is worth it to see his eyes bug out and his mouth curve before his fingers close about her hand. “Demanding, aren’t you? All right, more popcorn.” Then he leans in.

John’s mouth is hungry on hers, slow and sensuous and full of possibilities.

It is difficult to pull herself free when he presents such a temptation, but Teyla pulls away, climbs off the bed, and reaches for her clothes. There is a sigh behind her, but John makes no protest. Still, he catches her by the arm before she can walk out.

“Promise to come around tonight?”

Uncertain ground, and a loss of what is known.

She lets her lips brush his, lets her gaze meet his. “I promise.”

He seems content to let her go at that, and is settling his earpiece in when last she looks back at him.

Teyla came from Athos, John came from Earth; they became friends and allies in Atlantis.

Tomorrow, he will return to Earth and she will travel on to New Athos. They no longer have time in abundance.


End file.
